


Good Show

by trash_freak



Series: RickMorty Trash Pile [12]
Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Forced Orgasm, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Other, Tentacles, dubcon, idk wtf to tag here fucking hell, this is gross guys fair warning, you should be used to that from me by now though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-05-27
Packaged: 2018-11-05 16:29:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11017179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trash_freak/pseuds/trash_freak
Summary: Morty gets fucked by tentacles. Rick films it.





	Good Show

That feeling you get when you dream of being covered head-to-toe with insects, scuttling and scurrying across your skin, clambering over each other in a swarm of black, chittering horror; that skin-crawling helplessness, that panicked shuddering terror.

That feeling. You know the one.

That's what comes to Morty's mind as smooth, squirming limbs crawl up his body, too fast and strong to fight off.

The appendages start off slim at the tips, getting thicker, getting wide, little ridged suckers running up them for grip, and they slither and wriggle, less like snakes and more like worms. They are slick, and merciless, and there are so many of them, wrapping around Morty’s waist, around Morty’s throat, around the bend on his knees and elbows, keeping Morty star-fished and still.

One of them creeps up the inside of Morty’s denim-clad thigh, and as a high, panicked whine escapes him another twisting tip seeks out the warmth of his breath, the wet of his tongue, and pushes into Morty’s mouth. It tastes disgusting, like dirt and salt, and Morty’s mouth floods.

The suckers pull his clothes tight, sticking to the fabric, tearing the cotton of his t-shirt easy as they tug at it to wriggle underneath. The seams give way like damp tissue, the cloth falling free and leaving Morty shivering.

The tentacles force their way up Morty’s ankles, beneath his jeans. The popping of the stitches make Morty think of that time he stood on bubble-wrap. _Pop-pop-pop._ Makes Morty think of machine gun fire. Makes Morty think of bird bones crushed underfoot.

Morty can’t stop staring, wide eyed and pleading, at Rick sitting impassive and relaxed on a rickety fold out chair a few feet away, camera in hand, eyes darting between the tiny LED screen and Morty in the flesh like he can’t decide which is better. He’s wearing this stupid cap and has a megaphone at his feet and kept insisting Morty call him ‘director’ when this all started, had yelled “Action!” as the tentacles had emerged from the shadows and grabbed at Morty without warning.

When Morty had tried to fight them - too strong, _too many_ \- Rick had just urged him on:

“Yeah, baby, gimme a- _urgh_ \- a good show, that- that’s it, show me how strong those tentacles are, Morty, _damn._ ”

Now, the fight in Morty is waning, the fire in Rick's eyes sparking something in his own belly. Rick's steadily getting more and more excited, like he rarely ever does, and Morty, held tight, upright, naked and on display, is becoming rapidly, shamefully, _horribly_ hard. 

“That's it, baby," Rick says, encouraging, fidgeting a little in his creaky chair. "You don’t- don't worry, Morty, she’s- she won’t hurt you. Her tentacles are, are reeeal sensitive, Morty. She wan- wants you to _suck_ her, Morty.”

“Seee?” Morty tries to ask around the two squirming appendages exploring under his tongue and the line of his gums in a way he’s never experienced.

The roof of his mouth is much more ticklish than he expected. He wants to gag, but manages to hold it back.

“Yeah, Morty, ‘she’,” Rick snorts, amused. “Her kind are- they’re _all_ girls, Morty.”

The tentacles are rubbing up under Morty’s arms, between Morty’s toes, against Morty’s palms, all parts of him that are more sensitive and more erotic than he ever thought. The arm the creature has around Morty’s chest is solid, could crush him easy, rows of suckers pulling at Morty’s skin, muscle squeezing him still every time he tries to jerk away.

There are at least three wriggling between Morty’s ass cheeks, spreading them apart so his hole is exposed to the cool air, and Morty is so overwhelmed that he’s starting to feel strangely calm about it all. Maybe he’s in shock. Not the first time.

Rick’s voice anchors him, and he clings to it, ears straining to catch every breath.

“They’re milkers, Morty,” Rick is saying, quiet and intense, eyes zeroed in between Morty’s legs.

“She wants yOUughr jizz, Morty, gonna-” Rick takes a deep breath, shifts again in his chair, and Morty can see now just how hard he is, the line of his cock defined beneath his worn trousers. “She’s gonna suck you dry, Morty, ‘til, ‘til there’s nothing left to take. One load won’t be enough, she’s got, got a _lotta_ eggs need fertilising, Morty, she’s gonna take every drop you got to give, baby.”

Rick's excitement is sort of contagious, but Morty's brain lurches into the memory of little Morty Jr, a wildly inappropriate thought stampeding in and making his stomach turn, making him renew his efforts to escape.

“Uh dun wah ee-“

Rick cuts him off, talking in a weird, guttural, alien language, and the tentacles retreat from Morty’s mouth.

“I don’t w-wanna be a d-dad again, Rick,” Morty squeaks.

There’s a tug at his balls, a firm press just behind them on his perineum, and Morty gasps.

“Relaaax, Morty! You’re never- you won’t have to be a _dad,_ christ, you won’t ever see her or her young again. Can you just- just enjoy yourself _for once_ , Morty, fuck.”

Rick rolls his eyes, and Morty feels like _dirt._

“You know how in d- _uh_ -demand these ladies are? Had to pull a lotta strings to get her here for you, Morty." Rick frowns for a moment, put out, but he recovers quickly and leans closer to leer at Morty. " _Trust me,_ she’ll – she knows how to handle a human, Morty, she’ll blow your tiny mind.”

The tentacles start to creep back in past Morty’s lips, and Morty wants to just give in and rekindle Rick's enthusiasm, but the knowing tone in Rick's voice has a question _burning_ in his throat.

He pushes the exploring limbs out hard with his tongue to ask, “Do y-you- do you know her, th-then?”

Rick sighs.

“ _Yes,_ Morty, I know her, okay, there’s probably a million weird little tentacle Rick Juniors out there, now shut the fuck up.”

“What’s her name?” Morty asks, _has_ to ask.

He feels hungry for some snippet of Rick's past. He feels like a fucking _whore_ , here, some complete stranger’s tentacles rubbing up his inner thighs and licking at his hole.

He can't seem to stop thinking of Rick in his position now that the idea is there. Rick spread out and filled up. Rick eager for it, wanting it, demanding more and harder and _is that all you got, baby?_ Fuck, Morty wishes he could see it.

Rick pauses at Morty's question, and then all the irritation falls away and he looks at Morty with the most affectionate smile Morty’s _ever seen._

“They don’t have names the same way we do, Morty,” Rick explains, indulgent now, staring at Morty like he’s fascinated. “What the f _ugh_ -uck do- _OOuh_ you wanna know her name for?”

“Well, hell, Rick, I think i-i-if she’s- if this- if she’s gonna be having my babies, Rick, I should at least _know her name_ , right, I think that’s- that’s the way these things usually go, _Rick,_ ” Morty spits, embarrassed and irritated and so turned on by the squirming touches against his ass, by the thought of Rick stretched open and trembling.

Rick’s soft laugh and Rick’s deep voice and the wrinkles beside Rick’s eyes – Morty feels crazy with it.

“You’re such a weird little guy,” Rick mutters, but he’s finally palming himself through his trousers so Morty can’t be that bad.

The tentacles push back into Morty’s mouth, impatient now, and the very tip of one forces past the tight ring of muscle of Morty’s ass and Morty _whines,_ closing his eyes and just giving up, letting himself enjoy it like Rick told him to.

It’s nothing like Rick’s tongue, or Rick’s fingers, or Rick’s cock; it’s overwhelming, like there are dozens of hands on him, holding him down, touching and teasing parts of him no one has ever bothered touching before. Morty is breathless from it in moments.

It's not long before his cock is leaking, jumping up to slap at the tentacle wrapped around his lower belly, and, as if waiting for the cue, another appendage starts snaking its way up Morty’s leg, this one thicker and sturdier than the others.

When Morty struggles to look down past the thick arm across his throat, the smaller ones at his mouth, the burly band of muscle across his chest, he just about makes out the shape of the new appendage. It’s long like a tentacle, but smooth all the way down, with a dripping, convulsing slit at the end, leaving a wet trail where it slides up towards Morty’s dick.

When it engulfs him, moves like it’s sucking the come from him, Morty lasts seconds before he's shaking apart, whole body convulsing, eyes rolling back hard enough to _hurt_. He feels the muscle rolling along his cock, relentless, and tries not to think of a snake swallowing a rat.

Rick was right, of course; he always is. It’s like nothing Morty has experienced, leaves him winded, yelling out in mindless pleasure as much as he can with his mouth stuffed full the way it is.

But, just like Rick said she would, the creature keeps going, holding fast as Morty tries to escape. Her tentacle massages Morty’s prostate ruthlessly, countless others caressing along Morty’s skin, keeping his softening cock leaking pitifully.

Morty’s not sure how long his body endures it, how much he tries to beg, but eventually he’s hard again, hips struggling to thrust forward into the wet, sucking heat on his cock and back onto the wriggling tentacle slipping further into his ass, stretching him wider. The alien holds him tight, though, limits his movement, limits his breath, leaving him completely at her mercy.

The small moments between delirium where he focuses his eyes enough to see Rick’s face will be burned in his memory forever, he’s sure. Rick looks rapt, looks _amazed._ Rick looks in awe, _hungry_ , his entire attention set on Morty's trembling body.

Rick looks…

Morty grips onto the tentacles pushing against his palms, sucks at the ones in his mouth, keeps eye contact as best he can with Rick, body thrumming as he watches Rick slowly - _finally_ \- slip his hand into his trousers. The creature hums, sounding pleased, the tips of her appendages moving to eagerly probe at Morty’s ears and nose, seeking more heat, plugging him up, _too full_ , just as the sensations trip into euphoria and he’s coming again, panicked, blacking out a little at the lack of oxygen.

When he comes back to himself, his dick is still throbbing, surrounded by silky heat, but he’s being cradled in among the shifting mass of arms rather than held upright, and everything is soft, and he’s so full, so strung out he can do nothing more than shudder and moan. He can breathe again, at least. Barely.

Morty can just make out Rick stood looming above them, the lens of his camera growing as it zooms in for a close-up, and he spreads his legs further, as best he can, for Rick to get a better view.

The creature seems almost gentle as she eases him through his third, overwhelming orgasm, barely thrusting in and out of his loose hole, petting slow across his prostate and massaging his dick, careful and intense. She hums deep and soothing as Morty's body shudders violently. Morty thinks she's trying to be comforting. She pets his hair and strokes his back, and then begins her retreat, slowly slipping from his ass and mouth as she lowers him carefully to the floor.

Morty has never felt so bone tired, cold and aching and empty, covered in alien sex slime, lying heavy and helpless on the hard floor of Rick’s basement lab.

Rick finally sets his camera aside and moves to scoop Morty up, his voice a murmur that Morty’s exhausted brain can’t understand.

There’s a glass of cool water at his dry lips, and then he’s being tucked into blankets, Rick pressing up behind him.

"You're so good, did so good, baby, gave your- your grandpa Rick such a g-uh- such a good show, Morty, so proud to have you, baby boy."

Rick's hand at the inside of Morty's thigh eases his legs open so gentle, kneads at the aching muscle, and then his dick is pushing into Morty's abused hole and fucking him so soft and sweet that Morty drifts off into sleep to the steady rhythm of Rick’s thrusts.

Morty wakes in his own bed, and there isn’t a single part of him that isn’t hurting, but when he struggles to roll onto his side he sees a glass of water and two pills on his bedside table. He swallows the pills and downs the full glass of water, and his eyes finally focus enough to take in the USB memory stick sitting beside the ring of condensation left by the glass.

It takes a while to conjure up enough energy to move.

He saw a mouse in a glue trap once, tiny chest just barely moving up and down, eyes blank and tired and defeated. The memory creeps up on him as he tries to fight gravity and fails.

Morty _is_ Rick's grandson, though, and curiosity finally wins out, makes him struggle up from his bed to plug the stick into his computer.

There are two video files, one labelled ‘grandpa rick’s pov’, the other ‘you’re welcome you little freak’.

Morty frowns at the second file, but clicks on the first, though he’s sure he knows what it is.

As he suspected, the video starts and Morty sees himself being enveloped by thick tentacles, his eyes huge and fearful.

_Coward_ , he thinks to himself. Still, he doesn’t switch it off, some morbid fascination making him forget a little of the ache his body has become.

Morty hesitates only a moment. Gives in, defeated, and rummages in his drawers for his earphones, turns the volume right up, settles in to watch.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm just gonna drop this here okay because i've had it on my laptop for fucking ever so take it from me.
> 
> i had tentative plans to write rick getting fucked by the very same tentacle lady in his youth  
> and morty watching the footage of it  
> which is what's on that usb rick so generously gifted to morty  
> but idk man the inspiration flew away  
> so you may or may not receive that at some point in the distant future?
> 
> i've read through this so many times it doesn't even look like english any more  
> and it still isn't perfect but ah well  
> i wanted it slower i'll be honest i wanted morty squirming and fucking begging to be filled up  
> but the alien lady was impatient and had other shit to do i guess? busy girl.  
> so morty will have to beg another time.
> 
> thanks for reading  
> i'm a mess  
> i love you all


End file.
